


Of Sleep and Other Enemies

by Kokechii



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Sterek), Episode Aftermath, Episode: s02e09 Party Guessed, Gen, M/M, No Spoilers, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokechii/pseuds/Kokechii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days later, in the aftermath of Lydia's party, there is a big, bad, dark wolf in his bed and Stiles is afraid to go to sleep because of what he dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sleep and Other Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> First work for the TW fandom, OMG, finally got my invitation and AH. I'm nervous as hell about posting this here because AO3 is a home of many, many wonderful, brilliant, amazing, awe-inspiring authors, but here we go. 
> 
> I apologize upfront if I mangled the characters, I haven't written any fanfiction in years and I'm a bit rusty with my English as well and all of that, but this just wouldn't leave my head after watching that episode. Thank you all for reading!

* * *

 

_“show me where you found your faith and_   
_does it help you sleep at night_   
_I am not that complicated_   
_I just need some time_   
_because it doesn’t feel right_   
_and I’m mostly very tired…”_

**_(Tired - K’s Choice)_ **

* * *

 

 

Three days later and everything is for him still in a kind of a slow motion.

Stiles feels a bit as if he’s living underwater, as if he’s about to have a panic attack any second now but it never actually rises to the surface. It's been a long time since he had one, but he remembers the early signs: the tingles and the dryness of mouth.  
  
Days are easier.

But nights?  
  
At night the dreams come. It’s endless: his darkest thoughts on a loop and they are the reason for this constant humming of an almost panic that is residing underneath his skin. As if he is always waiting for his nightmares to become real. Waiting for the moment when something happens to Scott, the moment when he feels teeth upon his body, the moment, the moments. The awful moment when his father will say those words out loud and everything will be… He sighs, face pressed into the mattress, his left hand pulling the blanket over himself.

The first night after the party he is not sure how he even fell asleep. One minute he was sitting in his chair, the next he was on the bed waking up, completely disoriented and drowsy, his father’s angry face imprinted on his eyelids, black spots still present in his vision.

The young moon is barely visible in the sky when his bedroom window lets out a squeak.

It’s not Scott, no. Scott’s kind of been missing for the last two days and Scott is never this quiet when entering through his window. Scott is always words and noise and „Hey, Stiles..!“ in various forms. No. This is…

He whimpers, fingers clenching around the blanket, he knows who this is, and although Derek used his window all of two times maybe, this night visit doesn't surprise him, at least not like that. Soft, careful steps on his floorboards – he can hear Derek coming closer. The bed dips as he feels him join him between the sheets.  
  
They lie there together for what seems like hours, although he is sure minutes barely passed. There is quietness that is unnatural for his room, and he can only hear the combined sound of their breathing, one breath right after the other, out of sync, as if their breaths are chasing each other. Stiles thinks: _but isn't that what we actually do?_ , and almost laughs. He wants to go to sleep but after two nights of nightmares he's irrationally afraid to close his eyes. And he is so very, very tired.  
  
He lets out a sigh, bites his bottom lip and his fingers uncurl from the blanket. He pulls it down from his head and takes a peek towards Derek. Derek is not looking at him, he is staring at the ceiling, wordless expression on his face. Stiles wants to ask, but can't. He bites his lip once, twice, and tries to stop his heart from rising in beats.  
  
There is a big, bad, dark wolf in his bed and Stiles is afraid to go to sleep because of what he dreams. The irony is not lost on him. Derek is still a puzzle to him, most of the time. He knows the man's history, but he doesn't really know the man himself, and a big part of him wants to know – he wants to catch Derek, pull him open and study him until there are no more things to learn. But Stiles knows that is not possible – people always change, he could probably spend a lifetime studying Derek and not know him at all.  
  
That thought also doesn't bother him at all, and he thinks himself crazy, lets out a small huff of laughter out, then bites  his lip again.  
  
„Stop that.“  
  
Stiles blinks, stares at Derek. „You can hear that?“  
  
Derek turns his head to look at him, and the expression in his eyebrows and in the perch of his mouth is almost telling him, _you are an idiot_. Stiles laughs again, louder this time, but it sounds mangled and strange. They are both idiots.  
  
He is so tired. Ever since Scott turned, everything has been so complicated and it's draining him. He loves it – oh, boy does he love it, but on the other hand – grief is not a thing that just dies because you will it. And all of this, even before the mess at the party, has been stiring old ghosts in him.  
  
Derek turns slightly towards him on his left hip and Stiles freezes, forgets to breathe out, noticing how Derek's muscles grow strong in his arms and he half expects the man to do him harm. „What...?“, he starts, but Derek’s hand doesn't push or pull or hit, instead it reaches for his shoulder, settles there and squeezes lightly.  
  
„Stop that, stop that, and calm down.“ Derek almost growls, sounds like a growl but it's not, just a deeper tone of voice that unhinges something in Stiles. _Screw it_ , he thinks, reaching out blindly and, _screw it_ , he thinks again, _screw all of this_ , as his hand grips Derek’s shirt and he twists his fingers there instead of a blanket and pulls the wolf closer.

Derek stiffens, every muscle in his body taunt – Stiles can feel it. He chooses to ignore it and instead wiggles closer, kicking the sheets away and tries to fit into Derek’s body fold. He's forcefull and breaching all the borders and probably going to regret this in the morning but, _screw it_ , he thinks again and again, and pushes his head underneath Derek’s chin, forehead pressed against his chest. His heart is beating fast, but so is Derek's.

„This doesn’t change anything“, Stiles proclaims, false bravado and all.

He can feel the big bad wolf vibrating as if Derek’s holding back words, but he doesn’t care, not anymore. Derek is less frigthening then his nightmares, he knows - his senses are telling him now, his brain has always told him that, his heart listens still to the heartbeat next to it. A minute passes and Derek spreads his palm against his back, gives a curt nod.  „I know.“

„And we are not okay.“

He can feel Derek’s warm breath on the top of his head before he hears the words. Derek’s shirt is a bit scratchy, so he moves his cheek against it, body also changing position: he curls into a ball that is now completely shielded by Derek.  
  
„I know.“  
  
Stiles nods once, and prays that the now already calming beat of Derek’s heart can maybe, just maybe, chase the nightmares away tonight. Because curled up like this, all wrapped up into Derek, Stiles feels almost safe and it’s been a long time.

„I am not okay. You are not okay. We are not okay…“ he starts and stops, air lodged in his throat. _And we are both so very, very alone._  
  
Stiles can hear Derek’s heart skip a beat and then Derek’s hands are pulling around him.  
  
„But…“  
  
„I know”, Derek whispers, repeats, bringing his head lower, cheek resting on Stiles's eyebrow. The words are soft this time, small ghost of a breath in the air between them.

Stiles lets himself believe it, breathes in and out, as deeply as he can, feels Derek do the same. Come tomorrow, maybe they will both…  
  
Maybe.

Stiles sleeps and doesn’t dream of anything.


End file.
